Naked Greed (Stone Barrington)

by Woods, Stuart

  He took a moment to be sure they were both dead, then got Al’s wallet from his pocket, emptied it of a thick stack of bills, and dropped it on the walkway. He walked to the backyard, hopped the fence, and got out his cell phone.

  “Capitol Cab.”

  “Can you send a cab to the corner of Hollaway and Oak, please?”

  “Destination?”

  “Fairlawn Hotel.” That was where he had been staying, and there were always cabs there. Five minutes later, the cab showed up and drove him to the hotel. He got out of the cab and into another, asking to be taken to his hotel at the airport. The following morning he put the .38 into a brown bag, tossed it into the back of a garbage truck, took the first flight to Las Vegas, and had a good breakfast in first class.

  —

  On Sunday afternoon, Gene Ryan took a cab to Newark Airport and made his plane to Fort Lauderdale. At the airport he rented a car and drove to the Sea Castle Motel on the beach. He checked in, got into his bathing suit, and walked down to the beach, where a beachboy made a chaise ready for him.

  Two hours later he was joined by Vinny, who relaxed on the next chaise. “Seen anything of Al?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Ryan replied. “He must have taken a later flight.”

  —

  Late in the afternoon Ryan showered and shaved and got into a sports jacket. He met Vinny in the bar.

  “Did you hear from Al?” he asked.

  Vinny shook his head. “I checked the front desk—he’s not here yet.”

  Then Ryan saw Charlie walk into the bar and head for them. They shook hands. “How you doin’, Charlie?”

  “I’m good, Gene.”

  “This is Vinny, Al’s cousin.”

  “Where’s Al?”

  “He hasn’t shown. We all took different flights down. Want a drink while we wait?”

  An hour later, Charlie called Al’s throwaway cell number.

  “Yeah?”

  “Al?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where the hell are you?”

  “Where are you? Let me call you back.”

  Charlie hung up. “That wasn’t Al that answered.”

  “Who was it?”

  “He didn’t know me. Maybe a cop. Let’s get out of here.”

  Charlie drove them to a restaurant down the beach, where a table was waiting for them. They ordered drinks and some food. “When did you two guys last see Al?” Charlie asked.

  “Friday afternoon,” Ryan replied.

  “Where?”

  “At my mom’s house,” Vinny said. “We did a job, and we met there for the split. He talked to you on the phone while we were together, then he told us to get separate flights today and meet him at the motel.”

  “But he never showed, and there’s a strange guy answering his phone. Either of you know somebody who knows Al?”

  “Sure,” Vinny said.

  “Call up there and get somebody to go over to Al’s house.”

  “Okay.” Vinny called a cousin and had a brief conversation, then he hung up, looking strange.

  “What’s the matter?” Gene asked.

  “Al’s dead—his girl, too. Somebody offed them both on Friday night. He told me he was taking her to a show in the city. Apparently, somebody was waiting for him when they came home. A neighbor found them outside their house on Saturday morning.”

  “Anybody know anybody who might want Al dead?”

  “Yeah,” Vinny and Gene said simultaneously.

  “And who might that be?”

  “The guy whose liquor store we did on Friday afternoon. His name is Sean Finn. Al was having lunch with him when we knocked over the store,” Ryan said.

  “Was there bad blood there?”

  “You bet your ass there was bad blood. Last week we knocked over a poker game they were both playing in.”

  “Is this guy Finn the kind who would shoot Al over this?”

  “Nah,” Ryan said. “He’s the kind of guy who would pay somebody else to do it.”

  “Any idea who he might have paid?”

  “Maybe a dealer from Vegas who was in the game. Al said he was a mechanic, thought he was dealing off the bottom of the deck. Al said all the players were businessmen, not the sorts to resist when we robbed them. The dealer was another thing, though. We found a gun on him.”

  “Well, whatever the story, looks like we’re going to be doing this job without Al,” Charlie said. “Are you guys still in?”

  “Yep,” Vinny said.

  “Sure,” Ryan said. “Sean Finn can wait.”

  On Sunday evening Stone was enjoying an after-dinner cognac with Dino and Viv when his cell rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Stone, it’s Dan Harrigan.”

  “Good evening, Dan.”

  Dino perked up. “I want to speak to him.”

  “You can speak to him tomorrow morning,” Viv said sternly.

  Stone put the phone on speaker and set it on the coffee table. “Go ahead, Dan.”

  “I got some new stuff: Gene Ryan took a plane from Newark to Fort Lauderdale this afternoon. We were supposed to be tipped if he even made a reservation, so he must have used another name. A woman, a clerical worker in the department, spotted him getting off the plane in Lauderdale. She was taking it back to Newark after a few days off.”

  “Okay, then what?”

  “Then he was gone. I guess he’s still there.”

  “Does this mean anything?”

  “He might be on the run, or think he is.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand that. On the run from what?”

  “Al Parisi caught a bullet in the head late Friday night, so did his girlfriend.”

  “Is Ryan a suspect?”

  “He’s a person of interest. The Jersey cops want to talk to him.”

  “And you think he might have run, thinking that?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then why would he wait until Sunday afternoon to get a plane out?”

  “Good question. I posed it myself, and they didn’t have an answer.”

  “Any suspects besides Ryan?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’ll try and follow.”

  “Apparently, Parisi was playing in an, ah, informal poker game when it got robbed, and one of the players, a liquor dealer named Sean Finn, thought Parisi might have set it up. Then while Finn, Parisi, and some other upstanding citizens of New Jersey were having lunch to discuss the matter, one of Finn’s liquor stores got held up by two guys wearing elaborate disguises. They took the week’s receipts for three stores that Finn was due to pick up and bank.”

  “And Finn thought Parisi was responsible for that, as well as the poker game?”

  “Yeah. Finn has an alibi for Friday night, though. He was in bed with a woman, not his wife, and she backed him up. Of course, he could have farmed out the hit.”

  “Well, the Finn theory pretty much takes Ryan out of the picture as a suspect, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but if Finn was right about Parisi, then Ryan might have been one of the guys who knocked over the liquor store.”

  “Is he wanted for that?”

  “Not enough evidence. If he ever comes back from Florida, though, the locals will want to talk to him.”

  “Anything else, Dan?”

  “Not right now. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Good night, then.” Stone hung up. “Did you get all that, Dino?”

  “What a lot of garbage,” Dino said disgustedly.

  —

  Charlie, Gene, and Vinny were polishing off their steaks in Fort Lauderdale. “So here’s the deal,” Charlie said. “The target is a betting parlor, a rich one,
but they got raided last night—somebody didn’t get paid off—and they’re moving it to another location. We need to let it get established there before we take it. The raid will put a dent in their take for a week or so, until word of their new address gets around.”

  “So we came down here for nothing?” Ryan asked.

  “No, I’ve got something else we can do right away. It’s a little bank west of here that’s flush with cash on certain days, and I got word that Tuesday is one of them.”

  “Banks are tough, Charlie,” Ryan said.

  “This one’s a pushover. I know because I knocked it over a while back.”

  “What did you get?”

  “Over three hundred grand. There might even be more there Tuesday.”

  “Tell us the plan,” Ryan said.

  “We go in the front with shotguns—masks and coveralls—and go straight for the vault, don’t even bother with the tellers. We go out the back door, where I’ll have a van waiting, and we’re outta there. We change cars and meet at your motel.”

  “It can’t be that simple,” Ryan said.

  “You know how burglars work?”

  “I’ve caught a lot of them in my time,” Ryan said, “when I was on the force.”

  “They hit a place, then they give the owners a little while to replace everything with their insurance money, then they hit it again.”

  “Yeah, that happens a lot.”

  “Same thing here. I’ve got word from inside that after I hit the place, they installed two more cameras and added one guard.”

  “How many guards did they have before?”

  “One.”

  “And you don’t care about the cameras?”

  “They had cameras before. Everybody was covered from the head down.”

  “What’s the split?”

  “My backer gets half, I get a quarter, you two split the rest.”

  “That’s not a lot for us.”

  “This is just a stopgap—it’ll put some money in your pocket while we’re waiting for the horse parlor to get cranked up again. And you get some extra time on the beach. I pick up the motel rooms.”

  “Vinny, what do you think?”

  “I’m in, if you are.”

  “Okay, Charlie, we’re in.”

  Charlie ordered another bottle of wine.

  —

  Frank Riggs, né Russo, received Charlie in his office. “I heard what happened with the betting parlor,” he said.

  “Don’t worry, Frank, we’ll wait a week, then we’ll take it. Meantime, we’ll do the bank again. I hear it’s ripe for the picking, and I’ll give you a quarter of the take, even though you don’t have to do anything for it this time.”

  “When are you going to do it?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon, one o’clock.”

  “Have they beefed up their security?”

  “Same as before, plus they’ve got two new cameras and one more guard—that’s it. We can handle it, no problem.”

  “And you’ve got Gene Ryan and Al Parisi?”

  “Al caught a bullet over the weekend. Gene brought a reliable guy with him.”

  “Give me a couple minutes, okay?”

  “Sure, Frank, take your time.”

  Frank got up and walked down the hall to his partner’s office. “Charlie’s back. He wants to do the bank again, tomorrow at one.”

  “What about the horse parlor?”

  “It got raided, so it’s postponed for a week. Charlie’s brought in two guys from Jersey.”

  “I thought we were going to do the horse parlor, then dump Charlie. It’s time. I hear he’s loose of the lip, spends too much money.” He thought about it for a minute while Frank waited. “Have you got a sentimental attachment to Charlie? I know you two worked together for a while.”

  “Not a bit,” Frank said. “When we’re done, we’re done.”

  “Tell him it’s a go, then.”

  “Okay.” Frank walked back to his office. “It’s a go,” he said. “A quarter of the take is good.”

  “Thanks, Frank.” They shook hands and Charlie left.

  —

  Down the hall, Frank’s partner picked up the phone. “Hey, it’s me. I’ve got a tip for you. Remember the bank west of here? It’s going to be hit again tomorrow afternoon at one, same guys. Right. And listen, in return for the tip, we’d like it if you made a clean sweep—no loose ends. Can you handle that? Great, handle it, then.”

  Dino swept into One Police Plaza, shaking hands, waving at people, smiling, even though it hurt his head to smile, and doing everything he could to look healthy, hardy, and ready to run a police department.

  His secretary beamed at him and took his coat. “Chief Harrigan is already in there,” she said.

  “Oh, swell, I’ve missed him so!” Dino strode into his office, and Harrigan sprang to his feet. “Welcome back, boss!” he said, pumping Dino’s hand, which also hurt his head.

  Dino swung into his chair, opened a drawer, shook a couple of aspirin into his hand, and washed them down with water from a thermos. “Okay, Dan, anything new since last night?”

  “Not a thing, boss.”

  “Then get the hell out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

  “Righto. Oh, Public Affairs wants a photograph of us to show that you’re back in harness.”

  “Jesus. All right, get ’em in here.”

  Harrigan opened the door and beckoned the photographer and the deputy chief for public affairs into the room. The two men pretended to examine some papers on Dino’s desk, then smiled broadly for another one. Dino kicked everybody out and took off his jacket.

  He flopped down onto the sofa, unbuttoned his collar, and mopped his brow with his sleeve. His heart was thudding in his chest, and he was exhausted. He picked up the phone on the coffee table. “No phone calls, no visitors. Tell everybody I’m up to my neck in catch-up work.” He hung up and closed his eyes. In less than a minute he was asleep.

  —

  Ryan and Vinny sat on the beach, clutching drinks with umbrellas in them.

  “So,” Vinny said, “tell me about this Charlie guy.”

  “Charlie and his partner, Frank, worked for Al’s old man, Gino, just like Al and me, only they always seemed to get the best work. You didn’t work long for Gino, unless you were reliable, and that meant doing whatever the hell he told you to do. If Gino thought Charlie and Frank were reliable, then they were reliable. That’s good enough for me.”

  “So why isn’t Frank around?”

  “Charlie said Frank headed west after Gino got hit. I guess they thought they were the chief suspects, and maybe they were. I didn’t know anything about it at the time, and I still don’t.”

  “What are we going to do about Al when we get back?”

  “I don’t know, what’d you have in mind?”

  “How about torturing and killing Sean Finn? I’d enjoy that.”

  “You think Finn did it?”

  “He hasn’t got the stones. I think that dealer guy did it. He’s an iceman, and if he did it, he’s off back to Vegas, and I don’t want to fall in that can of worms. I don’t mind a bit doing Finn, though. Maybe we should do like burglars and hit him again on bank day.”

  Ryan shook his head, and sweat rained from his hair. “Nah, Al said Finn was going to beef up his security the first of the year, so you can bet he’s already at it. He’ll be on his guard all the time, too. Best to wait a few months until he’s feeling confident again, then drive up next to him at a traffic light some dark night and blow his fucking head off.”

  “I can put out some feelers about Finn and his habits,” Vinny said. “That might help.”

  “No! Don’t you put a goddamned feeler out to anybody, anytime. That’s how you end up in the joint with a needle in your arm. You just
keep your mouth shut, listen, and bide your time. You don’t ask questions, and you sure as hell don’t put out feelers.”

  Vinny sighed. “I guess you’re right. What about this bank tomorrow? How you feeling about that?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Sounds good to me. I like it that Charlie has already done the place. You just follow his lead, and we’ll do fine.”

  “What about this horse parlor he keeps talking about?”

  “Now, that worries me. Horse parlors are always run by the mob, just like bookmaking is. I think after the bank job, I’ll just drift back to New Jersey and enjoy my new apartment for a while, watch some TV, wait for opportunities to raise their heads. That’s what you should do, too.”

  “If you say so. I sure don’t want the mob after me. Life is too short for that shit.”

  “Vinny, what do you tell your mother you do for money?”

  “I don’t tell her nothing, and she don’t ask.”

  “Why not? Doesn’t she want to know what her son does for a living?”

  “My old man was a short-con grifter his whole life. He didn’t tell her nothing, and she learned not to ask. I’m just carrying on the family tradition.”

  “You’re a grifter?”

  “Nah, I don’t seem to have the talent for talking, like the old man did.”

  “Whatever happened to him?”

  “He ran into a wise mark and got himself plugged a couple times. That was that.”

  “Vinny, you going to be okay for this bank deal?”

  “I’m okay, if you’re okay, Gene. You got reservations, I got reservations.”

  “I got no reservations,” Gene said, and ordered another drink with an umbrella.

  —

  Dino woke to a faint buzzing from the phone on his desk. He grabbed it: “What?”

  “You’ve got a regular lunch date with the DC of PI at one,” she said. “That’s in fifteen minutes.”